


ShinyZango's The Nutcracker - The Heavens Will Guide You

by LionessGamer



Series: The Ghost Nutcracker [2]
Category: Nußknacker und Mausekönig | Nutcracker and the Mouse King - E. T. A. Hoffmann, Shinyzango's The Nutcracker
Genre: A heavenly visit, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Spirits, The Ghost Nutcracker, Training, Warriors and Knights, the stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 13:18:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14045082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LionessGamer/pseuds/LionessGamer
Summary: Before the final stretch of their journey, Hans and Clara are given some much needed, final help from a very unlikely source.This is a sequel to my previous fanwork, Night of the Nutcrackers’ Requiem. Please read that first, if you haven’t already.This is, of course, set in ShinyZango’s The Nutcracker.Some of these scenes were inspired by the Hero’s Shade from The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess and StarClan (the Warrior Clans’ afterlife) from the Warriors book series.Has a reference to pooka-dragon’s fanfic for the fandom, Wield (can be found on Tumblr), and by extension one of ShinyZango’s comics.





	ShinyZango's The Nutcracker - The Heavens Will Guide You

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Nutcracker](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/359193) by ShinyZango. 



> Still not happy with some parts and others feel a bit rushed, but I did what I could!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Good 'end credits' song for this: All The Stars - Kendrick Lamar, SZA

Burning embers rose and floated up into the darkening sky, the fire crackling happily on the dry wood below. Clara watched the flames dance and flicker against the growing darkness as Hans redressed the gashes on her arm. She flinched at some of the movement, not from pain, but from the annoying inch of the stitches. Unfortunately, the stitches would need to remain in her arm for a few more days, or else her wounds would reopen. To her relief, Hans had just reapplied Althea’s poultice to the wounds, which was starting to gradually numb the area. The itch would be gone soon, at least for a few hours.

Once Hans had secured the bandages to her arm, she turned to him with a grateful smile.

“Thank you, Hans. Now your turn!” The nutcracker huffed in submission, a tiny smile on his face at her chipper mood. He shifted himself to seat down beside her, leaning back against the tree as she retrieved the resin from the bag sitting on her bedroll. Unscrewing the bottle, she shifted her legs to sit on her knees beside him.

She pulled a wooden arm towards her, the nutcracker giving her no resistance. Then with swift, gentle strokes, she pushed the resin and sawdust mix into the new cracks and claw marks on his arm.

They had finally made it over the mountains, but as expected, the journey over had been infested with mice. They had been attacked several times, both having to work harder and harder each time to make it out in one piece.

In the end, they had both prevailed and had set up camp for the night towards the base of one of the mountains, the castle and its encompassing town just beyond their surrounding forest.

But before things had finally calmed down enough for them to rest, Clara had noticed something.

Hans’ fighting . . . was getting better.

Ever since that first night in Althea’s home, Hans seemed . . . different. More determined. More resilient. It showed in combat, as he dealt with the mice of the mountain with blows that were more sure and powerful than they were before. He had even begun to use his nutcracker body to his advantage, twice saving their lives with spins of his sword-wielding forearm.

She was so proud and happy for him . . . and yet . . .

Clara’s impressed thoughts darkened.

Despite his bursts of determination, there still hadn’t been a huge improvement to his self-esteem. There had been many close calls as they had been climbing the mountains and coming down from them, with Hans taking every setback and injury upon himself. Despite his improvements, the mice had still been quite a challenge for him and they had nearly lost their lives several times to their ferocity and numbers. His inexperience with sword-fighting, and fighting in general, was still showing. To him, the new marks on his body surely testified to that. The way he looked at those marks told her that he regarded every single one as a sign of fatal weakness, of uselessness. The despairing look in his eyes would grow even stronger whenever he saw her cuts and scrapes.

Especially when he looked at her bandaged arm and cheek.

He didn’t see his improvements. All he ever saw was his shortcomings.

His far-off gaze and his persisting silence told her that those exact same thoughts were going through his head now. She could see all the doubts and fears he had for what was to come swirling like a storm in his eyes.

She deflated, sadness and worry taking her heart as she began finishing up his arm.

To be honest, she had her doubts too . . . about herself.

She wanted so badly to be there for him, to fight by his side, and to help free this land and him from the Mouse King’s power.

To not be a burden.

But . . . if anything, she was the one who was useless.

She was just a girl . . . still just a girl with a dream of dancing and a talent for fixing dolls. She had never been a fighter of any kind and it had showed throughout their journey. Hans was always the one in front, taking the blows and protecting her from attacks. She was almost always the one in need of saving these past few weeks.

Hans had tremendous strength, a sword, and so much courage on his side! What did she have? What could she possibly do against the colossal Mouse King, when she could barely put up a fight against any other mouse?

She glanced back down at her bag, seeing a few threads shimmering from the open flap.

She didn’t even know how to use the enchanted rope properly.

She could feel her own despair mounting.

With such a lack of any useful abilities, how could she possibly support and protect Hans in their final battle?

Watching her nutcracker die in front of her as the Mouse King laughed. Not being able to save him in time as the other mice tore him apart. Those haunting imaginings kept replaying over and over in her head. They were her greatest fear and she felt the terror of them lurking in the back of her mind, the images threatening to become a reality once the sun rose again.

Pushing back the sensation of forming tears, Clara quickly filled in the last of the cuts and moved away, putting the resin back in her bag.

“All done! Try not to move for a bit, okay?” She made sure to keep her tone as uplifting as possible despite her premature grief, hoping to bring him out of his silence. To her disappointment, her voice only earned her a small grunt, the nutcracker barely paying any attention as he lost himself in his own dark thoughts.

Clara sighed, tired and losing heart. She leaned back against the tree beside him, her concern increasing at his lack of response and the growing dullness of his eyes.

The atmosphere of their small camp quickly turned dark and heavy, suffocating like a tense calm-before-the-storm. They sat in silence, watching the flames of the fire eat away at the wood.

Now that the end was fast approaching, the both of them were finding their worry of the future and their doubts in themselves growing exponentially. However, the despair was most strongly eating away at Hans, like the flames devouring the wood of their fire. He began to curl in on himself.

Unable to resist any longer, Clara carefully took his arm and lifted it over her. Sliding over, she planted herself against his side, hugging him close to comfort both him and herself.

She had to believe. She had to believe they would make it, that they would win. If she didn’t, then what chance did they have?

Hans was limp against her cheek for a moment, still lost and unresponsive. Then slowly, he drew her close, holding her to him in a near-desperate embrace. He buried his face in her hair and stayed there, trying to battle through the dark sea of tomorrow’s terrors that threatened to swallow him whole.

Clara’s inner battle was just the same as she buried herself in his wooden chest, fighting to keep her terrified tears at bay.

* * *

 

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, they would finally reach the Royal Castle . . . and then . . .

Hans sighed in exhaustion, both physical and mental, as he let Clara take his arm and begin filling in his injuries. He stared down at his wooden arms and his large hands, and felt the familiar anguish and frustration creeping in.

He still couldn’t do it. He still couldn’t keep them safe.

He glanced at Clara as the red-haired girl concentrated on filling a particularly deep crevice. Her traveling dress was riddled with tears and scrapes, with her body covered in just the same. He stared for a few seconds at her ripped sleeve, then at the bloody bandages on the ground that he had just replaced. Pain shot through his chest.

He still couldn’t protect the girl he loved.

He had tried. He tried so very hard on their journey across the mountains to live up to Althea’s descriptions of the Nutcrackers, of the warriors who stood up to evil like ancient heroes and had almost driven the invading mice to extinction.

But he just . . . couldn’t. He didn’t have the skills or the talents that they had. He didn’t have the awesome courage and unwavering confidence that they had. He wasn’t born in heavy armor or made familiar with the weight of a sword.

He wasn’t a conquering soldier or a mighty warrior.

He wasn’t a **_real_** nutcracker.

He was just a clockmaker’s apprentice, trapped in a story that shouldn’t be his. He still could barely fight. He still didn’t have any idea of what he was doing.

And he was still so very afraid.

Tomorrow would be the deciding battle. The fight that would decide everyone’s future.

And he . . . he would either live or die tomorrow . . . and the same fate would befall Clara.

He cringed, barely able to keep the flinch from shaking his whole body and alerting Clara.

If he couldn’t defeat the Mouse King . . . if his meager skills failed him . . . Clara would . . .

Hans curled in on himself, his chest becoming agonizing and his eyes watering at the very real possibility. He couldn’t . . . he wouldn’t be able to handle that.

For the very first time in his life, Hans found himself wishing that he was a real nutcracker. If he was, she would be far safer. Hell, if he was, maybe she wouldn’t be in this mess at all. Maybe he could have put an end to it all the very first night.

But he wasn’t.

There were no nutcrackers left to stop the mice. There was only him, and deep down, he knew that he wouldn’t be enough.

He was torn from his depressing thoughts when he just barely registered the girl of his heart lifting his arm and moving closer. Glancing over, he watched her press herself against his side, bringing her arms around him in a tight hug.

He stared at the top of her head, barely knowing what to do. But the sweet gesture was eating away at him, somehow both lightening and intensifying the pain in his chest. The conflicted feeling grew and grew until he couldn’t stand it anymore.

He wrapped his suddenly shaking arms securely around her and drew her even closer to him, hugging her back like a frightened child clenching their stuffed animal. He buried his face in her hair, wishing he could actually feel it against his cheeks, actually feel her in his arms.

He needed to know that she wouldn’t be gone the next day.

He needed to know that she would be safe.

As he held on to her desperately, nearly convinced that if he let go she would disappear, one thing was made clear to Hans.

His despair was no longer entirely centered on being a nutcracker.

No . . . he now despaired over being a worthless one.

* * *

 

_“ **Did you REALLY think you could stand a chance against me, toothpick?!** ”_

His sword flew through the air, arching over the mob and vanishing into the darkness. Hans’ back hit the stone wall with a sharp crack, his battered body rattling from the force of the blow. He slide to the ground, his shaking legs failing to keep him up.

His eyes had shut tight upon impact and for the moment, he couldn’t find the will to open them again. A chorus of squeaks and snickers was echoing around him within the wide, darkened hall, ringing in his ears.

Finally forcing his eyes open, he despaired at the sight of the mice surrounding him, filling every inch of the Castle’s banquet hall. They sneered and foamed at him, many itching to chop him into firewood.

The Mouse King stood before him, a bloody sabre in one hand and a clean one in the other. Hans’ eyes widened in horror at the sight of the red liquid, dripping sluggishly down the length of the blade.

Clara was nowhere to be seen.

The massive rodent smirked, narrowing his eyes in glee, as the nutcracker at his feet started to shake in horror and terror.

“And to think, a spineless weakling like you came here hoping to defeat me . . .”

The King threw back his head and let out a booming laugh, cruel and spiteful. A roar of cackling laughter from his minions flooded the whole room in his wake.

His head snapped back down to the nutcracker, his eyes crazed and his smile curled into a snarling sneer.

**_“HOW IDIOTIC!”_ **

The giant mouse roared as he charged forward, both blades aimed for his prey’s head. Hans’ body was frozen in terror, his wide eyes watching the torch light reflect off the sharpened points darting for his life.

Drops of blood from the one sword flew through the air, glinting at Hans like rubies of omen.

**_“DIE NUTCRACKER!!”_ **

Hans’ eyes snapped shut, his hands covering his head and his body curling into a protective, fetal ball against the wall. The cruel laughter of the mice increased in volume, bombarding him as he waited for the final blow. At any second, the blades would hit and there would be pain. Then, there would be death.

And Clara . . .

“ _Begone._ ”

Over a dozen different voices seemed to speak the word all at once, completely cutting off the sound of the rabid mob.

Hans’ body flinched violently as a powerful wind suddenly rushed into him, plastering his hair to his head. Too afraid to open his eyes, he let the wind ram into him, still waiting for the killing strike to land.

After what felt like an eternity, the fierce breeze began to die down. Soon, it was reduced to a gentle breeze, caressing him as it flowed peacefully past with its anger now forgotten.

Everything went still, all silent except for the sound of the wind rustling the branches of the trees.

Wait . . . trees?

The frightened nutcracker slowly uncurled his body, immediately noticing that the wall behind him was gone. The motion of feet also produced a gravelly sound, definitely not the expected noise of wood moving on a marble floor. Exceedingly confused, Hans hesitantly opened his eyes.

His eyes snapped open to their limit. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

The dark halls of the infested castle were gone . . . as if they had never existed.

In the castle interior’s place, he found himself outside in a dusty clearing, walls of fog drifting in a large circle around him. The tops of trees of a forest around him could be seen over the clouds of mist, and in front of him, he could see the silhouette of the castle in the distance.

However, something strange was happening with it, the sight shocking him to a new extent.

The shadow of the tall structure was **_crumbling_** against the approaching twilight, falling to pieces as the whole palace collapsed to the ground. But then, before his very eyes, the shadowed castle rose again, putting itself back together piece by piece.

It never ceased this endless cycle, continuing to be destroyed and created over and over, with both differences and similarities each time.

While the self-rebuilding castle was quite an astonishing spectacle, Hans’ attention was gone from the structure within seconds, his eyes pulled upward by strange lights flickering above his vision.

The sight that greeted him stopped any sort of thought from forming, his eyes wide and his mouth dropping in stupefaction.

Overhead . . . stretching on forever . . . were billions of stars, more than he had ever seen before! They encompassed the sky in their twinkling lights, shining down on him. They were dim and bright, large and small, clustered and scattered, and of all sorts of hues. Some seemed so close that if he reached out, he could capture them, while others seemed to float within worlds far beyond his.

All about them, they were woven within wispy clouds of innumerable colors and glows, painted against the dark night. In some areas, he could even see the cloud-like formations moving, lazily flowing down strange, unseen currents and whirlpools.

So bright and colorful was the night sky, that he could see the reflection of those lights on the trees and the ground and even in the surrounding fog, splashing everything in an ethereal glow.

“Wh-Wha . . .?” He gasped dumbly, unable to comprehend the beauty and wonder before him. He couldn’t bring himself to look away.

Then, unexpectedly, he noticed one of the stars begin to drift in the direction of the castle. As it moved, more began to join it, all going in the same direction. The more stars that joined, the faster they moved. Within seconds, they were falling, raining down on the earth below.

Hans watched them streak across the sky in awe, unable to look away from the massive meteor shower before him.

That is, until one of them abruptly curved away from the others, changing its course. It turned and came speeding towards him, appearing to have been far closer to him then should have ever been possible.

Snapping out of his awestruck daze, Hans tried to scrabble to his feet, panic taking him as the light rocketed towards him.

Slipping several times in his frenzied movements, Hans had only just gotten to his feet when the star made landfall in front of him. His body tensed, preparing for an explosion of debris to knock him off his feet.

But there was nothing of the sort.

The star came to a complete and abrupt stop across from him, seemingly never touching the ground as it sent out waves of strong winds from its arrival and blinding him with its light. The confused nutcrackers covered his face with a hand, blocking out the intense light and whipping wind as the star hovered over the ground.

Gradually, its light began to dim and its ripples of wind receded. Hans’ hand lowered and his eyes peered out at the star.

Hans had had no idea that he could be in so much shock in such a short amount of time.

Within the fading light of the fallen star, a tall figure stood proudly.

Glowing smoke swirled around it as white flames flickered all over its body. Within moments, the flames began to die down, parting to reveal shining white and blue armor beneath them. More of the figure’s features came into view as the spectral fire extinguished itself from the figure’s form.

Before long, Hans was staring up into piercing blue eyes, the stranger’s identity finally revealed with a final wave of dying, white fire. Hans could just barely speak his name in his astonishment.

“D-Da . . . Daemon?”

The Nutcracker knight from Althea’s painting stood in his full glory before him, staring back at him with a fathomless gaze that almost seemed to glow. His royal-blue cape and waist cloth fluttered about him in a forgotten breeze, looking like pieces cut from the midnight sky itself, full of stars.

In fact, looking closer, Hans was shocked to see small, twinkling stars in every line and curve of his body, the stardust decorating him into a living constellation.

The raining of stars ceased behind him as he smiled at the stunned young nutcracker.

_“Greetings, young one.”_

Hans flinched at the knight’s warm voice, the sound of it echoing around him as if they were both standing in an empty room.

The starry warrior put an armored fist to his chest and gave Hans a small bow.

_“My name is indeed Daemon; Thuringia Daemon of the Nutcracker Regiment. It is an honor to finally meet you, Drosselmeyer Hans.”_

Hans continued to gape at the older man as the knight come out of his bow and began to watch Hans expectantly. Completely rattled and confused by everything that was happening, Hans’ swirling thoughts left his mouth in a panic, foregoing any thought of the manners he should show.

“Wh-What’s going on here? W-What’s happening? Where . . . where am I?!”

This wasn’t a dream. To Hans, this felt far too real and outlandish to be a dream of his. His dreams and nightmares had never been so clear, so immersive before. Compared to the sensations he had of this place, the Mouse King and the other mice had felt so fake and . . .

His frantic mind zeroed in that one memory, of the blood dripping down the steel sabre. His breath hitched and his eyes shook in familiar terror as he took a step towards the knight, desperate.

**_“Where’s Clara?!”_ **

Hans’ distressed exclamation made the larger nutcracker blink in surprise, before a comforting smile spread across his pale face. He lifted a hand to Hans in a pacifying gesture. Hans suddenly felt . . . **actually felt** . . . a warm breeze swirl around him, surprisingly calming his nerves.

_“Peace, young warrior. She is safe, as are you. You have my word.”_

Hans eyed him, nervous and suspicious, before forcing himself to relax. Daemon seemed to be a trustworthy person and Althea, of course, had spoken very highly of him. He didn’t seem like a man to lie about something like this.

But that didn’t mean that Hans’ nerves had been settled. So many questions were rattling around in his head as the strange night sky danced above them and the white knight before him shimmered with the night’s stars.

The younger nutcracker moved closer to Daemon, desperate to know what was happening.

“Then what’s going on?! H-How . . . How did I get here?” Nothing around him looked familiar, especially not the skies above. It was like he was in another world, like Clara’s, but far more fantastical. The last thing he remembered was sitting at their camp out in the woods, holding Clara to him. And then, there was nothing but the nightmare of the castle and that bloody sword.

Daemon lifted a hand, gesturing to their surroundings as he answered.

 _“You have been called here. This is an in-between space.”_ At Hans’ confused expression, the eternal soldier elaborated with a flourish of his hand.

 _“This place is essentially an island . . . between the worlds of those who live and those who have died.”_ Hans’ pupils shrank as his eyes widened with shock. But now that it had been said, it seemed so obvious now.

An old legend came to the forefront of his mind as he took in Daemon’s appearance. The way he looked. The way he sounded. The way he had arrived.

The very fact that he was **_dead_** , a spirit from above.

Hans’ head shot up to gaze upon the rainbow of the night sky once more, but this time, instead of gasping in wonder, he looked up at the vast sea of stars with mounting horror.

Was . . . was the Mouse King’s attack not a nightmare after all? Could . . . could he be . . .?

Daemon quickly caught on to Hans’ line of thinking, the sudden loud echo of his voice cutting through the man’s spiraling thoughts before he could have a panic attack.

_“No, Hans. This is neither a dream nor your time cometh.”_

The white nutcracker gave Hans a consoling smile as he spoke in a gentle tone, his posture radiating a sense of calm and peace.

_“Think of this simply as a visiting.”_

The frighten nutcracker forced himself to calm down at the relieving information, trying to stop the sudden trembling of his body. The ethereal nutcracker patiently gave Hans all the time he needed to settle his sprinting mind. After a few moments of steady breathing and letting himself come to terms with everything around him, Hans straightened up and looked Daemon in the eye, trying to give himself some amount of dignity despite being so much on edge.

“O-Okay then. But . . . but what is happening? Why am I here?” Hans’ unease rose again as Daemon just stared at him, tilting his head a bit as he studied him with a scrutinizing gaze.

Hans’ whole body tensed when Daemon’s hand reached to his side and drew forth his knightly sword, the blade ringing as it slide free from its sheath. 

The departed swordsman lifted the blade to align it with the center of his face, looking past it to watch Hans as he spoke.

_“A sword wields no strength unless the hand that holds it has courage.”_

Those words echoed around Hans, not only in the echo of Daemon’s otherworldly voice, but also in Hans’ memory as well. He remembered that toy soldier that he and Clara had met early on in their quest, the one that had given him his first sword lessons. He had said the exact same words . . .

Daemon moved his gaze onto his sword, inspecting the entire length of it in thought.

_“You have the courage, yes . . .”_

Faster than the blink of an eye, Daemon’s sword swung to the side in a sudden attack on an invisible enemy, a wave of wind rushing past a shocked Hans as it sliced through the air.

_“But sometimes, there must also be **guidance**.”_

Daemon’s sagacious gaze held Hans in place, ensuring that all of the cursed nutcracker’s attention was on him and him alone. Hans found himself quelled by the age-old wisdom that looked out at him from those glacier eyes.

_“You fear that you will fail . . . that you are too weak and afraid to effectively challenge the Mouse King for the freedom clenched so tightly between his filthy claws.”_

Hans stared at the other nutcracker in disbelief, baffled over how this near-stranger would know that. Daemon continued on, his serious expression relaxing into that of reassurance.

_“I am here to help quiet your fears, to provide you with the skills to strengthen your challenge.”_

Daemon raised his high-medieval sword, aiming its sharp tip at Hans. His voice boomed with enormity.

_“If you will permit me, I will instruct you on the full capabilities of your nutcracker form. I will show you how your body and sword can become one and the same.”_

With his words, Daemon effortlessly twisted his arm joints in several directions, flourishing his blade in a graceful whirlwind of lethal swings. The sword then abruptly halted and impaled the ground at Daemon’s feet. His hands moved to perch on the sword’s hilt as Daemon continued in a mighty tone that shook Hans to the core.

_“You will be trained . . . in the ways of the Nutcrackers, the Bane of the Mouse Empire.”_

Hans gasped, stumbling back.

At his words, over a dozen shadows swiftly appeared in the mist behind Daemon. They were mere silhouettes, without features, but the shapes and stances of their bodies spoke of power and nobility.

The feeling of absolute power and intimidation was amplified by the fact that he could see their eyes, glowing like colored lanterns within the thick fog.

Daemon’s powerful voice called his attention back, the knight gazing upon him with forbearance.

_“So, Drosselmeyer Hans . . . last of our line . . . do you accept me as mentor?”_

Hans’ mouth opened and closed as he tried to think of a response. Looking behind Daemon, Hans was alarmed to see that, within the seconds of his distraction, all of the shadow figures had disappeared.

“I-I . . .” He had no idea what to say. Everything was starting to happen way too fast and too strangely for him to comprehend properly. He had just learned that he was in some sort of visitation with a nutcracker spirit and now said spirit wanted to train him? He had no clue how to react to all of this.

Suddenly, a memory of his nightmare popped into his head, of his sword flying off into the distance. He quickly looked down at his side to check for it. He was relieved and a bit anxious to see his rapier hanging safely from his side, waiting to be used.

Hesitantly, Hans drew the sword from its sheath, holding it timidly in his hand. Daemon waited patiently as Hans inspected his contumacious sword in apprehension, remember all the difficult fights he had had to fight with the blade. With a resigned sigh, Hans turned his eyes back to the spirit, grimacing.

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” The spirit stood in silence for a moment, taking in Hans’ dispirited expression before speaking.

_“There is always a choice . . . but it is the consequences of our choices that are often decided for us.”_

The tone of his voice carried with it a deep wisdom and reassurance, but his expression was of a different story. Hans just managed to catch them before they disappeared: the pained twitch of his countenance and the sudden far-off look in his eyes.

_The consequences of our choices . . ._

Althea’s words suddenly reverberated through his head.

**_‘However, he resigned after a decade of service for a reason he never divulged. He would always become silent and gloomy when asked.’_ **

Something happened . . .

**_‘Daemon blamed himself for my misery, no matter how much I told him otherwise. I would hear him tell himself again and again that it was his fault. That he made another terrible mistake.’_ **

. . . and Daemon blamed himself for it.

The knight had made some choices, some decisions with consequences that had apparently costed himself and others dearly. Somehow, it had forced him to leave the Nutcracker Regiment . . . and then Althea.

The pain and regret spawned from those decisions were still present within him, even after death.

And now it was Hans’ turn to make an important choice.

Daemon was giving him an opportunity here, an offer for improving their chances against their greatest enemy. He would be receiving instruction and training in the very realm of fighting of the ones the mice feared the most. He could finally stand a chance against them and maybe even find some semblance of confidence in his swordplay.

But the spirit had made it clear that this was a choice. He could either take it . . . or leave it.

Looking back down at his sword, Hans considered his options.

All of this could just be a hopeful dream, a hallucination of what he wished he could know. And even if this was real, would he even be able to learn, to actually fight like a real nutcracker? Or would he fail, just like with everything else?

He was tired. He was so tired of fighting, so tired of failing. And so tired of being a useless nutcracker.

He could leave. He could just refuse.

But if he did, he knew there would be consequences. He would continue to be vulnerable and weak. He still wouldn’t be able to effectively protect Clara, not while he remained inexperienced and far too afraid.

Was he really willing to risk Clara’s life by refusing?

Hans gritted his teeth, his eyes narrowing at the shine of his sword.

No. Dream or not, he wouldn’t chance it, not with her life on the line. If he refused here, it would just be another reason for them to fail and that list was long enough.

He would take all the help he could get for this final battle.

The grip on his sword tightened, resolve filling him at the thought. He took a deep breath, then let Daemon’s ice-blue eyes lock with his own sun-gold orbs, a determination sinking into them.

“I accept.”

The spectral warrior smiled, pleased to finally see the determination within him. With a nod of acceptance, the Nutcracker of Old pulled his sword from the rocky earth, expertly whirling it around into a reverse hold in his hand. He brought his sword arm forward, positioning his blade across him as he took a defensive stance.

_“Then let us begin . . .”_

Daemon watched as Hans moved into his own sort of stance, his face expressing a new uncertainty.

The spirit smirked good-naturedly.

_“Attack me.”_

* * *

 

Clara’s eyes finally reopened, at last successful at fighting back her tears. The last thing she wanted right now was for Hans to worry about her even more.

Speaking of which . . .

Clara froze in her place against the tree, fear and confusion darting through her heart.

She was alone.

The young woman quickly rose to her feet. How?! How was that possible? She had been in his arms mere seconds ago!

“Hans?”

Her head turned in every direction, frantically looking for her nutcracker.

“Hans?!”

During her frantic search, she paused, finally noticing the strange changes in her surroundings.

The first bizarre phenomenon was their fire. She stared at it in utter amazement as the flames barely moved, the rapid flickers becoming slow waves. The embers were drifting into the sky at a snail’s pace.

It was like Time itself had somehow slowed to a crawl.

The second marvel was the sudden brightness and color of the night. It had been pitch black before she had closed her eyes, but now it seemed as if it were early dawn. She could see the trees and grass around her very clearly in the light of . . .

Clara choked on her own breath as she looked up into the sky.

The light that lit up the world around her was not that of the sun, but of the thousands of stars shining above her, some so big that they could easily pass as smaller versions of the Sun. They floated and hovered within a sea of colors, some areas of the sky appearing to be marked with hued patches of seafoam.

“Oh . . . oh my . . .” The girl found herself enraptured by the heavenly sight, unable to look away as the various colors drifted through the sky with the stars in their currents.

So captivated was the girl that she nearly missed the rapid spiral of one of the stars. She watched in wonder and some fear as the star left the others and rapidly descended towards her, circling the sky like a vulture.

Clara jumped back with a yelp, plastering herself to the tree as the star hit the ground before her. Its light lit up the small clearing of their camp, painting everything in a white, green-tinged blaze that blinded Clara. The young woman covered her face, hiding her eyes until she was sure that the light had died down.

Upon peeking past her fingers, she froze, shocked.

The star was gone.

In its place . . . stood a human woman.

She stood tall on the other side of the fire, a middle-aged woman in shimmering, silver armor that covered her from nearly head to toe. The Doll Kingdom insignia was engraved with gold trimming on her breastplate, marking her as a soldier of the Kingdom. What appeared to be a whip of black color was curled against her side and, on her other side, hung a blackened cutlass as well. Her black hair was kept short and styled in a pixie cut. Her green eyes gazed out at Clara from a lovely, heart-shaped face, so full of light that they nearly glowed.

And looking closer at the woman’s figure, Clara noticed something else that shocked her to the core.

The woman . . . the woman was made of stars! All along her form, from the lines of her armor to the strains of her hair, there were shining points of light. It was like she was a living statue of stardust.

Clara wasn’t sure what to do as the starry being took a step toward her, raising a hand in greeting with a friendly smile on her lips.

_“Hello, Clara.”_

The woman’s voice vibrated through the air, echoing like the sounds within a cavern. Clara shivered, frightened and cautious of this strange visitor.

“H-How . . . How do you know my name?” The stranger smiled reassuringly, the tiny stars in the line of her lips sparkling.

_“We have been watching you, just as we have been watching Hans. As we watch over all who are precious to us . . . and whose destiny . . . is important to many.”_

The girl nervously glanced around, unsure of what to expect.

“We?” She asked timidly, still nervous about this whole unfamiliar situation.

The woman’s green eyes grew soft in understanding and she raised her hand to the sky, looking up into the stars with an expression that spoke of a deep reverence.

_“We . . . who have passed on.”_

“W-What?!”

The woman lowered her gaze back to Clara at her outburst, adopting a confused expression when she saw that the girl had suddenly begun to tremble. Clara had begun to stare at her as if she were Death itself, coming to take her.

When the girl finally gave a response, it was a panicked ramble as she pushed off the tree to take several shaky steps towards the female soldier.

“Wait . . . wait! Does . . . Does that mean . . .? Am . . . Am I dead?! H-How--?!” Clara’s mind was spiraling out of control as she tried to remember what had happened. She had been sitting with Hans by the campfire, holding him close as she tried not to let either of them drown in their fears. But they had both been alone and safe! There was no reason why she should be--!

She froze mid-step, eyes widening.

Was that why she couldn’t find Hans?!

At the sight of Clara’s distress, the soldier panicked herself, her hands held out in a comforting gesture as she tried to quickly quell the girl’s fears.

_“No! No, no, lass! Calm yourself! This place is not Death’s Door!”_

The pitch of her voice was half alarmed and half amused, a small laugh joining with her words. Clara stared up at her, her mind slowly coming back together as the soldier explained with arms outstretched to their surroundings.

_“This is the Veiled Divide, the ancient meeting place between the past and the present . . . between the living and the dead.”_

The woman chuckled, pleased to see the girl before her was calming down. She gave the girl a warm look.

_“I promise you, Clara. You are on the living side of this meeting.”_

Coming out of her scare, Clara blinked at the woman as she took in the information. She swallowed nervously, struggling to come to terms with the fact that she was apparently in some sort of spirit realm and was conversing with what seemed to be a deceased guard.

Taking a deep breath to calm her buzzing nerves, she stepped closer to the other woman and asked in a wary tone.

“Then, why am I here? And . . . and where’s Hans?” The spirit continued to smile warmly as she answered, her presence taking on a far wiser air.

_“Hans is currently meeting with another at the moment. The both of you have been summoned here because we want to help you, to finally put an end to this age-old conflict.”_

Clara watched in surprise as the woman took a step back and fell into a respectful bow. She introduced herself with a strong voice of authority and high-regard.

_“My name is Caterina, Captain of the 74 th Nutcracker division, adopted daughter of the great Lead Nutcracker, Colonel Conover . . .”_

She rose from her bow, placing a hand on the hilt of her cutlass as she addressed the young woman before her with a proud grin.

_“. . . and I am here to give you instruction on your quest.”_

The young girl stood before the woman in stunned silence, staring wide-eyed back at her. Caterina waited, watching Clara’s expression morph from shock to wonder.

“Oh . . . oh wow.” She muttered. However, Clara’s awed countenance soon shifted into confusion.

“But . . . Caterina . . . if you don’t mind me saying, I thought the Nutcracker Regiment had only nutcrackers in it, uh . . . given the name.” She stated meekly. Caterina shook her head, amused.

_“Well, besides me, it did. Colonel Conover took me in when I was very small. I was raised amongst nutcrackers, grew up with them. They were my family and friends, and their kindness and bravery inspired me to take up arms at their side. And thus, after years of training *and some bending of the rules*, I became the first human of the Nutcracker Regiment . . .”_

Her voice as she explained her history with the Nutcrackers was full of pride and admiration, her eyes glimmering with fond memories.

Her green orbs then drifted to the side, a thoughtful look overtaking her face.

_“. . . and perhaps not the last.”_

After a moment of thought, her attention quickly snapped back to Clara.

_“However, I am here for you. You and your nutcracker are nearing the end of your journey and it is there where you will face your greatest challenge.”_

The woman untied her whip from her belt, letting it unfurl to the ground. Clara eyed it warily, unsure of what Caterina was going to do. Noticing her discomfort, Caterina gave her a kind smile. She gestured over to the bag still sitting on Clara’s bedroll.

Looking back, Clara just managed to make out the magical glow of the enchanted rope stowed away within her bag. Understanding began to dawn upon her as she looked back at Caterina as the woman spoke.

_“I am here to make you ready, to teach you, to service you as a mentor in defense and the magical properties of your chosen weapon . . . but only for one night.”_

The woman reached out with her empty hand, palm turned skyward in invitation.

_“Do you accept my help?”_

The living girl gave no answer at first, stunned and rendered dubious by the offer.

“Uh . . .” Her uncertainty fluctuated as she studied Caterina, taking in her regal appearance.

The red-haired girl looked down at her gloveless hands, inspecting the scrapes and blister marks that scored the skin of her palms.

She had earned them over the course of their adventure, but she was ashamed to realize that most of the damage had been done during some sort of escape. She doubted she could claim any of them as the result of an act of valor or the consequence of an attempt to aid. Most were recent and had been made during their many scrambles to escape from mice in the mountains. Hans had made sure to keep her out of harm’s way every time.

Clara’s mood saddened, looking all over her body at the wounds and bruises that she had done nothing to earn. If she was lenient with herself, maybe one or two marks could be considered badges of honor.

Looking back at her bag, back at the crystal-like threads peeking out in shimmering light, she felt her heart beat faster. A sudden wind swept past her and fluttered the flap of her bag, moving it aside to reveal more of her awarded article.

Determination began to sweep through her like the gust of wind that swirled around them.

She had promised him! She had vowed to carry her share of the burdens, to support him, and stay by his side no matter what. But to do so, she needed to stop being the damsel-in-distress. She had to be strong, stronger than she ever thought she could be.

She had to protect her beloved nutcracker, just as he had done for her! She would do anything to keep him safe.

Mind made up, the girl turned back to the awaiting Caterina, her eyes steely with resolve and her body straight and tall under the soldier’s gaze.

“Yes.” The one word she spoke carried with it all the tenacity of her decision. She would not be backing down.

Caterina accepted her answer with a pleased grin, then gestured over Clara’s shoulder. Clara turned her head just in time to see her enchanted rope of thread snaking through the air and circling her. One end quickly came to a stand-still before her, hovering in the air in wait for her to take it. Astonished, Clara looked back up from her drifting threads to see Caterina lifting her long whip above her head and spinning it. The leather length began to glow as Caterina gave her student an excited grin.

_“Then take up arms and let us begin.”_

The wind continued to cyclone around them as Clara reached out to her awaiting threads.

* * *

 

_“That’s it!”_

Hans jumped away as Daemon spun around with a swing of his broadsword, sustaining no injury from the cursed nutcracker’s successful backstab. The spirit’s grin was pleased when he saw that Hans had returned to a defensive position after dodging the attack, keeping to his lesson of never letting his guard down during a battle.

The Ghost Nutcracker straightened up from his counterattack, giving Hans a satisfied look as he continued their current lesson.

_“Usually, it is beneficial to aim for a mouse’s tail, as injuries there can completely debilitate them.”_

Hans stayed in position, ready for any attack. The first couple of lessons that he had had to endure from Daemon had made certain that he wouldn’t be relaxing around the warrior anytime soon. Instead, he paid close attention to both the knight’s words and his movements.

_“However, an attack on one of the King’s tails will likely only enrage him . . . but you can still use that to your advantage.”_

Curiosity crossed Hans’ face at Daemon’s statement. The spirit smiled back as he explained.

_“Rage can make one stronger . . . but it can also make one’s decisions rash and sloppy. Predictable.”_

Daemon dropped into another stance, Hans tensing as he recognized it as an incoming attack.

_“If you pay close attention, you can come to recognize a pattern to his anger and foresee his decisions before he can make them himself.”_

The knight’s expression became serious as he issued a vital warning.

_“Make sure that you do not make the same mistake. Should your rage blaze within you during battle, do not let it consume you. Instead, focus its energy into your attacks . . . and not into your heart.”_

Hans barely had time to think upon his words before the white blur of the armored nutcracker was upon him once again.

Their swords clashed once more.

* * *

 

_“Again, but this time, watch very closely for the swing! Duck over the arm and then follow his side to his back. That is where you strike!”_

Clara braced herself as she stood among the trees, trembling slightly as the hulking shadow charged toward her. The transparent silhouette pulled back its blade of smoke, ready to cut her down despite its harmlessness as a mere shadow. That fact certainly didn’t stop the fear from racing through her veins. 

Pushing down the instinctive terror, Clara remained still as she watched the spectral blade swing for her head. At the last second, she ducked under the swing and grabbed a hold of the shadow’s side, using the momentum to swing herself around its back. She then let go at the end of her swing, twisting around to whip her cord of threads into its back.

The threads glowed brightly the moment they hit the shadow’s back, causing the silhouette to let out a low growl. Trails of magic cut through its form, dispersing the smoke and fog of its body until it faded away in flashes of light.

_“There you go! Just like that!”_

Her mentor shouted, pleased with her progress. Clara turned her head to the cheering Caterina, overjoyed as well at her first successful counterattack.

* * *

 

White, wooden feet slide an inch or two across the ground, their owner struggling to hold fast against the power of his opponent.

White, armor-covered feet pushed against the ground, their owner beginning to dominate his opponent in this contest of strength.

Both were straining against each other, locked in a pushing match. Daemon pressed forward against their locked hands, trying to force Hans back. The younger nutcracker was digging in and pushing back, but he was also faltering. He slide back another inch as Daemon spoke calmly to him.

_“Your nutcracker strength can easily rival that of the Mouse King’s. Should you be disarmed, use that to your advantage. Test his strength against yours and then when the time is right . . .”_

Hans’ foot suddenly hit a smooth spot on the ground, his left foot sliding back faster than his right. Daemon seized the moment as Hans’ tightly closed eyes snapped open at the stumble.

_“. . . you throw him off balance!”_

In the blink of an eye, Hans was yanked off his feet. Daemon wrenched him to the left by their locked hands, slamming him into the ground with one hard pull.

The shock of the smackdown caused Hans to lose his grip on Daemon’s hands, the spirit backing away upon release. The spirit could not prevent the smirk that crossed his face as the young nutcracker lay stunned on the ground before him.

_“Dust yourself off, Hans. Now, I want you to try to do the same to me.”_

* * *

 

Caterina dashed from side to side, zig-zagging around her student in a full-sprint. Clara struggled to keep her from getting behind her as she spun her threads above her head in a lasso movement.

_“Come on, Clara! Just concentrate on me! Focus your will into the threads! Treat them like an extension of yourself! Then when ready, send them out!”_

Clara nodded, forcing her tired arm to keep swinging the rope above her. Zeroing in on Caterina, the girl aimed to the space ahead of the soldier. With a short shout, Clara hurled the looped end of her rope at her moving target. As she watched, she quickly realized that her cord of threads was going to miss, Caterina moving too fast for her throw.

Her teeth gritted as she willed the rope to catch her fleeing opponent, his grip tightening on the cord’s other end.

Caterina dashed past the rope’s mark before it could hit, escaping capture.

Or so she thought.

The lasso end of the rope followed behind her like a magnet, the knot of the loop coming loose. The threads of the rope unraveled from each other, becoming a blossom of individual strands. At the surge of determination from Clara, the threads sped forward and latched on to Caterina, rapidly wrapping around her body. Within seconds, the female soldier face-planted into the ground, her legs tied together and thrown into the air by the force of her skid.

“Caterina!” Clara gasped as she ran over to the downed woman, worried that she had hurt her. She felt relief when the woman’s head suddenly lifted, her face spotless of injuries and her lips pulled into a big grin. Clara’s enchanted threads went limp and withdrew from her as she laughed.

_“Now imagine how hilarious that would have looked if I had been the big, bad Mouse King!”_

* * *

 

Hans glared at the knight across from him, his rapier at the ready as he moved.

The two nutcrackers circled each other like prowling lions, both looking for either a weakness or an opening to exploit.

One was found when Daemon’s foot landed on a small rock that protruded from the ground. His balance was thrown off slightly.

Hans darted forward, closing the distance quicker than ever before. Daemon had to quickly withdraw his off-balance foot to effectively block Hans’ attack. Their swords clashed with a sharp ring, Daemon’s arm almost buckling from the force of Hans’ strike.

The spirit smirked, pushing back against the weight behind Hans’ sword.

_“Excellent observation and response time. But do not forget . . .”_

The knight pushed their swords to the side and crouched as he swung out a foot. Hans immediately fell backwards at the trip, struggling to keep his sword in defensive position as he hit the ground. Hans’ eyes closed for a second as his back collided with the ground. When he reopened them, he found the tip of a sword hovering right between his eyes.

_“. . . in attacking, you become open as well.”_

* * *

 

Clara spun the cord of magical threads in a circle in front of herself. She concentrated, trying to command it into the desired role. She was currently trying to create a shield, but so far, her efforts had been fruitless. However, with Caterina’s new advice, she felt that this time it would work.

She needed to look inside herself and find the part of her that would fight tooth and claw to protect and defend those precious to her. And so, she immediately focused on thoughts of Hans and on all the times he had protected her. She focused on her love and loyalty for the nutcracker and the fierce compulsion within her to keep him safe from harm.

The rainbowed threads began to glow as they once again separated from each other, fanning out like a windmill as she swung them around. Before her eyes, each thread began to emit a visible energy that quickly merged into a bubble-like shield. The female warrior in front of her wasted no time.

With a thunderous crack, her black whip shot forward and hit the force field dead center. The transparent shield rippled at the impact, but remained intact as Clara continued to spin the unraveled cord.

_“Well done! It seems that you can get your shield up and running with no problem!”_

Clara smiled back at the spirit woman as she stopped her spinning, letting the rope of threads go limp on the ground. At the loss of momentum and concentration, the protective force field faded away and the divided threads wrapped around each other to become braided rope once more.

* * *

 

They had been training together for what felt like an eternity.

Hans grunted as he landed on his feet, skidding across the dirt ground from the force of the blow. He bent his knees and moved one leg back, keeping balance as he slid to a stop. In an instant, he was back in ready position, prepared for another enemy assault with his rapier posed for a practiced counterattack.

But then, Hans’ look of concentration morphed into a pleased grin, even as his body shook from the stain of the long training session. He had finally managed to power through the brunt of that ramming attack and block it without falling on his arse again. He felt his growing confidence soar at his newest success.

Daemon stood several feet away from him, still in the stance of the end of his powerful ramming attack. Through every lesson, the armored nutcracker remained completely unchanged, unaffected by the long hours of rigorous dueling.

In fact, not a scratch existed on either of them, a fact that still mystified Hans. Both of them had taken dozens of connecting hits and hard landings throughout the training, and yet the only signs of their intense swordplay were that of Hans’ fatigue and the numerous gouges that their swords had made in the hard earth.

Hans tilted his head curiously when Daemon’s head suddenly snapped up, gazing into the heavens above with a look of concentration. Drilled to be overly cautious during this training, Hans only spared a short glance up at the sky. From what he could see, the sky looked no different. Thousands of blazing stars still littered ribbons of colorful smoke trails against the endless oblivion.

However, Daemon must have seen something that Hans did not, for within moments the knight had relaxed and was standing tall once more. His sword hissed as it was returned to its sheath. Daemon bowed his head to Hans as the young nutcracker relaxed his stance, sensing that this wasn’t another trick of the training.

_“I am afraid our time together has come to an end. You have done well, Hans. You have proven yourself a better student in one night than many I have overseen.”_

Hans became bashful at the praise, ducking his head. However, his appreciative mood darkened at the thought of his training coming to an end. Not because he enjoyed the grueling session of mock warfare, but because . . .

“Are . . . Are you sure that I’m . . . ready?” Hans looked up at the knight, hesitation and doubt creeping into his heart once again.

While Hans couldn’t deny that he had made great progress in Daemon’s crash course in Nutcracker tactics, he still felt like he was lacking. There was still plenty of Daemon’s lessons that he had yet to master and those where he had been successful still required a great deal of concentration and skill to execute. Would what he had managed to learn be enough? Would he even be able to put them to use in a real fight?

That was another fear of his. He was afraid that despite his newfound knowledge of battle, all his lessons would be forgotten in the face of his real enemy.

Despite all the teachings and struggles he had endured this night, still he felt unsure of himself, still doubting that he would be enough for overthrowing the Mouse King.

Daemon’s icy eyes surveyed the modest young warrior, speaking slowly as he studied his student’s uncertainty.

_“My presence here has only been allowed for this one night. I have taught you all I can in my given time. Now, it is up to you to decide if you are truly ready.”_

The spirit’s serious expression softened with compassion and wisdom, his blue eyes watching the burden of responsibility weigh down upon Hans’ shoulders once more.

With steps that did not disturb the rubble and tuffs of grass upon the ground, Daemon closed the distance between them. Hans looked up to him with surprise as the elder nutcracker placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, a gentle smile upon his lips.

_“Do not fret, young Hans. The outcome of a battle is decided on more than just strength and skill.”_

Suddenly, Daemon’s face began to blur and warp before Hans’ eyes, the whole world starting to fall away. Hans panicked, thoroughly alarmed by the distortion of his vision. Daemon disappeared from his view, yet his hold still remained on his shoulder, holding Hans in place when he tried to struggle away.

The colors and shapes of his sight morphed and stretched and then, in an instant, the smudges snapped into clarity.  Images flashed before his eyes, each barely staying more than a moment before the next took his attention. And yet, despite their short duration, Hans experienced them as if they were happening in real-time, the sounds, touches, and smells all present within them.

Hans realized with awe that they were his memories, replaying before his eyes as if they were actually happening.

Hans jumped when Daemon’s voice echoed within his own head, the memories playing before him as the spirit spoke.

 

_“You have always had a human heart, stubborn and inspired . . .”_

 

Clear as day, he watched through his very own eyes as he freed an innocent fox from a jaw trap. The little Reynard pounced on him, licking the face of his child savior. Hans could feel the fox’s licking and hear his own child’s laugh, the powdered snow chilling against his winter clothes.

The memory faded and then suddenly, he was sitting at the table in his uncle’s home, his young self struggling to complete the pocket watch that he had been trying to put together for weeks. Carefully tinkering with the delicate mechanics, he stubbornly continued to ignore every bit of help that his uncle offered. He was determined to finally craft a working clock all on his own. Bit by bit, he worked out all the kinks and inaccuracies until finally, the watch started to tick right there in his hands. The child Hans stared at the device in shock before bursting out of his seat, spending the whole day gushing to his uncle over his very first successful piece of craftsmanship.

A second later and his vision warped again. Suddenly, he was pushing another child away. The young bully stumbled back, nearly falling on his arse from the shove. Young Hans glared at the boy as he stood protectively in front of another, much younger lad, the boy laying in the grass with tears streaming down his face.

The bully glared back at Hans, infuriated at being stood up to. Still in a glaring contest with the arrogant boy, Hans helped the other to his feet, grimacing at the bruise on the little boy’s cheek.

Daemon’s voice continued to echo within his mind as the memory faded into another, the boy’s injured face smiling up at him.

 

_“However, your soul . . . your noble spirit . . . is of us, of the Nutcrackers. We have seen it. You have proven it time and time again throughout this journey and your own life. There is a warrior within you, a hero in the making.”_

The next memory was from his teenage years, his feet pounding against the stone street as he chased down a thief. He hadn’t been sure what actually he would do once he caught him, but Hans still would not let him escape. He wouldn’t let Old Mrs. Harriet down.

The memory blended into another as he grabbed the criminal. Suddenly, the man changed into another and Hans’ hold was no longer gripped to his sleeve. Instead, he had the bastard pinned to the wall with a large, white hand, leaning in close to hiss a threat at the slimy urchin who dared to touch Clara. He would make sure that this sorry excuse for a human never went anywhere near a woman again.

Many more memories paraded across his vision, Hans reliving the terrifying moments where he fought to protect Clara and others. One was of him tossing away a trio of mice like trash, sending them flying away from the scared little girl hiding under a cart. Another had him looming over a duo of mice, frightening them away from Clara with a ferocious snarl. Yet another was of the first night with Althea. He once again was cupping Clara’s cheek as she cried out in pain, squeezing her hand as it tightened around his. Moments later, she was gazing up at him with such affection, telling him how lost she would be without him. Just like that day, it felt like something was beating wildly in his chest.

_“The love and loyalty that you have for the ones you strive to protect will keep you strong, as strong as they kept us.”_

As Daemon spoke, the visions changed, becoming memories that he immediately knew were not his own. Just like with his own memories, they flashed by rapidly, and yet they were all too clear to him.

Suddenly, he was a huge tank of a bearded nutcracker, dressed in huge, black armor and laughing thunderously at a victory celebration with his friends, consisting of humans, dolls, and nutcrackers alike. Many of them owed their lives to him for his actions during the battles and he owed his to them just the same. Together, they had done the impossible and, as one, they would do it again if need be!

He would always be there for them.

Hans’ vision shifted and then he was an old and slender, forest-green nutcracker with long ginger hair and a bandaged eye, fighting side by side with his comrades. He was a medic first and foremost, but the ferocity of this battle called for every available sword. As he swung his blade in combination with an ally’s, he felt nothing but absolute trust and loyalty in his fellow nutcrackers and he could tell that they felt just the same about him, despite his damaged self. Together, they began to beat back the tide of mice.

He would always raise a sword for them.

Another vision had him as a much younger nutcracker of red and purple colors, a small armored knight. He was being held to the ground by much bigger, burlier dolls while other toy bandits moved to slaughter the human children he had been trying to protect. Their tiny screams of terror sent a massive surge of anger and protectiveness through his wooden body. With a defiant scream, the nutcracker lifted himself up and shot to his feet, sending the thugs flying in either direction from the force of the push. The nutcracker leapt to the children’s defense in an instant, shock and fear in his opponents’ eyes as his fierce expression and snapping teeth dared them to come any closer to the little lives that trembled at his feet.

He would never give up on them.

Once again, he was another nutcracker, this one being one of the smallest to ever exist. A second nutcracker crouched beside him on the rooftop, dressed in purple and missing his left arm. As one, they leapt off the roof and, together, they kicked down the massive, muscular drunk who had been rampaging through town. The purple one gave the lady that the drunk had been chasing a comforting smile, sitting on top of the man, while the small nutcracker that Hans currently was put the sharp end of his spear to the bully’s throat, warning him not to move. The sound of reinforcements sounded from behind them.

They would never forsake those in need.

Even more memories flashed by, filled with so many nutcrackers, old and young, big and small, whole and broken. All the memories were of them committing acts of bravery and selflessness, despite the fear and weakness many of them had felt at the time.

They had all had their doubts, had had their fears and cracked spirits. And yet, they had had the courage and resolve to challenge the impossible wherever they turned, for the sake of justice and the innocent lives they had sworn to protect.

For a few scarce moments, Hans was surprised to see some of his memories being projected over theirs, presenting similarities that he had never thought of before.

He . . . had done the same things they had. They had transcended the jaws of fear to defend those they cared about . . . and so had he.

With a warm and gentle flow, Daemon’s voice wrapped around him as the images moved on into a realm of peace and content.

 

_“Always love . . . and always protect . . .”_

At his words, Hans flowed swiftly into the body of a young, blue nutcracker with brown hair and green eyes, gently lifting two, fallen baby birds back into the nest that was perched on the low branches of a blooming, cherry blossom tree. He stepped back and watched the parents return, inspecting their young before settling their alarmed calls.

Peace and compassion flowed into him.

He was then a much older, grey-colored nutcracker with a golden mane, training new nutcrackers in not only combat, but in philosophy and life as well, helping them learn the world and see the best it had to offer. He smiled brightly at one of his most promising new students, a white knight with electric blue eyes. It was Daemon, looking just the same to Hans, but his eyes were far more innocent, curious, and eager. His eyes had yet to possess the endless wisdom and strength that existed within them now. However, this old Grey, with his overflowing devotion to his students, would play a pivotal role in the development of some of the greatest Nutcrackers to have ever walked the land.

Pride and parental devotion burned through him.

Then, he was a light-haired, female nutcracker, smiling happily at the laughing children around her as she played with them and their family dogs. She blushed bashfully when one little girl tugged on her cape and said that she was her best friend in the whole, wide world.

Happiness and kindness pooled within him.

Another blur and the children’s laughter was replaced by a woman’s giggle. A young woman appeared before him with emerald-green eyes and golden, shoulder-length curls. It took a moment for Hans to recognize her, as she appeared to be much younger within this memory. She smiled affectionately up at him as she reached out and took his large, armored hand, tugging him back to their willow tree.

Love and determination surged through him.

 

_“. . . and from within your own soul, you will find a far greater power than any of which the Mouse King can conjure.”_

The maiden’s image faltered and, for a split second, her green eyes and golden hair were replaced with chocolate-brown eyes and long, flowing red hair. The hand that she held in hers was no longer armored, but was of Hans’ own wooden set. The image of Clara smiling affectionately up at him made his inexistent heart skip a beat.

It was then that the pressure upon his shoulder vanished and with it, the visions faded away, leaving him disoriented and dizzy.

Through his recovering vision, Hans watched as Daemon backed away from him, his arms held out in a sweeping gesture as his voice rumbled forth.

_“Because of who you are, and those you have chosen to stand tall for . . .”_

The knight stopped and stood proud before the recovering nutcracker, a confident smile forming on his face as he planted his sword into the ground, both his hands resting on the hilt. Hans’ eyes widened, shaking off his daze, as the shadows began to reappear in the mist behind Daemon.

The knight’s voice boomed out, echoing throughout the area.

_“You **will** be victorious.”_

At his words, the fog abruptly pulled back with a unexpected wave of wind, retreating away from them. As it did, Hans watched in amazement as dozens upon dozens of star-dusted nutcrackers were revealed, completely surrounding their clearing. Daemon continued as Hans spun in every direction, looking on in shock.

_“Throughout your life, you have proven to all that you **DO** have the strength and the courage to win this final battle, just as Clara has. Both of you have overcome so much, and have protected and served the ones you care about with honor, loyalty, and determination.”_

Not an empty space could be seen amongst the crowd of nutcrackers. They stood before him or sat on the limbs of the trees, consisting of all sorts of shapes, sizes, ages, and colors. Some were dressed in lavish cloths and fine wears, while some others were armored like fortresses. There are several who barely came up to Hans’ knee, while there were also a few who towered other the rest like stone monoliths. Their modeled ages seemed to range from the old and veteran-looking to some that looked barely out of childhood.

But no matter their appearance or supposed age, each one held a definite sense of power about them, like an ancient aura that marked them as eternal heroes.

Hans felt himself shrink, humbled by every single pair of eyes that was trained on him.

But then Daemon’s next words had him turning back around to face the knight, eyes wide and mouth open in astonishment. The armored nutcracker continued to smile at him, his voice resonating through the air.

_“So we, the Nutcrackers of the Past, have deemed you worthy of our name. We will stand with you, Drosselmeyer Hans. Should you be human or nutcracker . . . we shall walk alongside you, our brother . . . always.”_

Daemon gave the amazed nutcracker a wide smile, pride and trust radiating from his expression.

The knight then surprised Hans even farther when he lifted his sword in a salute, his strong voice calling out to the heavens themselves.

_“Hail Drosselmeyer Hans! The Last of the Nutcrackers!”_

Hans froze in shock, as within moments, dozens upon dozens of swords and other weapons sang as they were drawn from their sheaths and slings, lifted into the air as an offering to Hans. Hans found himself spinning around once again, watching as every nutcracker surrounding them saluted or bowed to him, echoing Daemon’s words in thunderous cries that shook the trees.

_“Hail Drosselmeyer Hans! The Last of the Nutcrackers!”_

The very earth beneath him trembled as many of the bygone nutcrackers stomped the ground, repeating the salute once more in recognition of their last Nutcracker.

Hans stood before them in an awed stupor, feeling completely self-conscious by their lionizing of him.

“T-Th-Thank you!” He replied shyly, nervously nodding his head in respect to the crowd as he tried to stand a bit more dignified before them.

Hans had begun to turn back to his mentor when the first light shot into the sky, startling the cursed nutcracker. Soon, more were joining it, lights of all colors rocketing straight into the air from the crowd of nutcrackers.

“Wait . . . wha-?” The words were barely out of his mouth when the whole world lit up in streams of color, the wind from the take-offs blowing his hair back. All around him, nutcrackers were disappearing into flashes of light that soared up to the heavens, like drops of sunlight falling up into the night sky.

Hans spun around and saw Daemon still standing before him. However, glowing smoke was gathering around him and his armor had started to catch fire. The spirit warrior looked upon Hans with a gentle kindness and a wisdom that stretched far beyond his years. He spoke softly, like a whisper, and yet it boomed in Hans’ ears.

_“Remember to always have hope, young one. For even in the darkest of days, it will be there, waiting for you.”_

An image of Clara flashed before his eyes, her kind face smiling warmly at him as she helped him up. Then it was his Uncle Drosselmeyer, turning around to grin back at him with pride at Hans’ latest accomplishment. Then, he saw all the people he had encountered over his journey, all of whom he had helped and had helped him. They all smiled at him as their faces flashed before his eyes, looking back at him as hope brightened their previously-dulled eyes.

And then, he suddenly saw himself through their eyes.

His breath caught in his throat.

What stood before them was a heroic and just man, a savior that they had been praying for. The one who had restored their hopes and dreams. The one who would save them all.

In their eyes, he found himself no different from the valiant and noble heroes whose memories he had witnessed, who had all stood before him.

And even as the visions faded, the heroic image of himself stayed to overlay on the sight in front of him.

For in the eyes of those who believed in him, he was exactly the same as the white knight that stood before him, cloaked in a dawning light.

The powerful image of himself faded away as the voice of Thuringia Daemon come to him from all directions.

_“Farewell, my apprentice. May we one day meet again . . . when you finally take your place amongst the stars.”_

As the knight’s farewell echoed in his ears, Hans shook himself awake from the shock of the visions’ revelation. He tried to focus on Daemon, but the shining light building around the knight nearly blinded Hans with its intensity. The flames grew bigger along Daemon’s body, consuming his form. Streaks of lights continued to zoom away from the earth around them as Hans panicked, his mind racing with unasked questions.

The sorrow-filled face of the blind Althea suddenly burst to the forefront of his mind. She had spent her whole life searching for the truth, searching for Daemon. She never had this chance to ask, to find out, but soon he would lose that chance as well. Hans quickly called out to Daemon, desperate for the answer.

“W-Wait a minute! Tell me what happened to you! Why did you all disappear?!” Hans could barely see Daemon through the bright light anymore. However, he did manage to catch a glimpse of the knight’s face, of the sad smile that pulled at his lips with a deep sorrow.

_“That . . . is a truth best left forgotten.”_

The words thundered around Hans as the light surrounding the Ghost Nutcracker burst, showering the area in white and blue embers. Then, with a tumultuous crack, the light launched into the air, the last of the nutcrackers following as their own trails of light. Hans stumbled back from the powerful resulting wind of their departure.

Finding his feet, he looked up to see the various lights traveling up and up into the night sky, leaving Hans alone in the clearing. Then before his very eyes, they burst like fireworks against the painted night, showering stars across the sky. He continued to stare at the awesome display . . . until a loud crack split the silence. Looking down at the source of the sound, Hans froze in shock to see a spider web of cracks forming on the ground beneath him. He watched, his terror growing, as more cracks splintered off from the existing ones, the earth he stood upon looking and sounding like the breaking of glass.

Then, just as Hans took a careful step back, the ground shattered, falling to pieces like a smashed window.

With a scream of terror, Hans plummeted into the darkness below, glass shards of earth falling into the void with him.

But the stars above remained, never leaving him as Hans fell farther into nothingness.

* * *

 

_“Clara . . . it is time.”_

The redhead lowered her threads, confused. The armored woman was staring up into the sky, her playful expression becoming solemn.

“Time for what?” She asked her mentor in a puzzled tone. Caterina lowered her gaze back down to her, her green eyes soft.

_“My time is up. It is time for us to part ways . . . and for you to continue on your journey.”_

“Oh . . .” Clara breathed out, suddenly feeling saddened and apprehensive as she held her rope in both hands. Caterina smiled gently, curling her whip back to her side as she moved closer to the girl.

_“You have done very well, Clara. You would have made a fine soldier.”_

Clara bulked at the praise, an embarrassed blush painting her cheeks. Her eyes lowered to stare at her feet, the length of her cord of threads curled around them. While the compliment had been gratifying, it had also brought with it a shame, a subduing denial. She couldn’t imagine a girl like her being a soldier, much less a decent one.

“Oh! I . . . I don’t think . . . that I would . . .”

_“Clara . . .”_

Clara looked up at the almost motherly tone of the other woman.

Clara’s breath caught in her throat.

She expected to look up and see Caterina standing before her.

Instead, within seconds, the human of the Nutcracker Regiment now stood at the forefront of a massive crowd of people.

_“You are.”_

Caterina smiled gently as Clara’s eyes darted back and forth through the crowd that stood beneath the trees. There were dolls and humans alike, seemingly of all sorts of ages and occupations. There were toy guards like the one she and Hans had met early in their journey. There were armored humans like Caterina, watching her in stoic stances. There were men and women of all ages and races, standing before her with kind smiles and confident grins. There were even children, hiding and skipping within the sea of legs and trunks.

There were mother and fathers, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles. There were groups of friends, comrades, and families, consisting of both dolls and humans.

It suddenly clicked for Clara as more appeared from the trees around her. She realized that she was now standing before the past generations of the Doll Kingdom.

Caterina continued to smile at the awestruck girl, stopping before her and taking one of her hands to hold between hers. Clara’s eyes left their audience and focused on the soldier.

_“You are of the world beyond this one. You should have no interest in the affairs of ours. And yet . . . here you are, fighting not only for yourself, but for Hans as well . . . and to restore this world back into the people’s hands once again.”_

Caterina removed a hand from Clara’s and turned back to the people among the trees, gesturing out to them.

_“We have seen your deeds, your kindness and selflessness towards those we had to leave behind. We have seen how determined and strong you can become when you come to the aid of others.”_

Caterina smiled back at Clara, putting the hand to her chest in a sincere motion.

_“You are doing us a great service, Clara . . . the both of you are. You will be freeing a kingdom from its pain and suffering. A kingdom that we all fought so hard to keep safe, to cultivate and grow.”_

Releasing Clara, the woman backed away. The girl watched her retreat with eyes glistening, feeling overwhelmed as Caterina continued.

_“And for that, no matter the outcome of this fight, the people of this kingdom will forever be in your debt. You will have our support and our swords, as little as they may mean to the living.”_

Putting her fist over her heart, the warrior bowed to the girl, respect and allegiance pledged within one gesture.

_“Win or lose, we will stand by your side, Clara . . . to the very end.”_

Clara watched in amazement as the others followed suit, bowing and kneeling before her. Even the children playfully bowed to her.

Clara stared in disbelief at the multitude of spirits bowing before her, treating her like some sort of hero or a royalty. Tears gathered in her eyes at the trust and faith that these people had in her. Despite her doubts, despite her shortcomings, these people believed in her, believed both of them.

Wiping away her tears before they could fall, she met Caterina’s soft gaze with a confident gleam.

She then bowed in return, to both her mentor and the people of the Doll Kingdom.

“Thank you so much . . . for everything. I’ll try my best to make you proud.” There was so much more she wished to say . . . but nothing else would leave her mouth.

Her armored mentor smiled tenderly as the girl bowed to her and her people. As her student rose from her honored gesture of respect, she spoke softly to her. The words were soft, and yet echoed loudly through the trees.

_“You already have . . .”_

Clara’s eyes widened in surprise at the statement, before snapping fully open at the first eruption of light. She gasped as one by one, the spirits burst into light, streaking up into the sky. Some shot straight and true like fireworks, while others spun and twirled in the air as they ascended. The children present laughed as they jumped into the air, becoming streaks of light that racing through the trees before following the rest. Laughter and cheers suddenly filled the air.

Caterina grinned widely at Clara in pride and elation, raising her arms to the colorful spectacle as light and smoke gathered around her.

_“Now, go forth, daughter of the Mother Realm!”_

Clara watched in shock and wonder as Caterina’s body scattered into light, becoming a living flame as she lifted off the ground. As a shooting star, she circled above Clara, the last of the others joining her as her voice shock the air.

_“. . . and be victorious!”_

All at once, all the lights turned and rocketed into the sky, joining with the colorful cosmos once more.

Clara watched their ascent in awe, until she was suddenly jerked backwards.

It was like gravity had shifted and Clara began falling parallel to the ground.

With a scream, her body flew backwards, flailing in the air, until her back slammed into the tree.

* * *

 

Clara’s body jerked from the impact with the tree behind her, snapping her out of her sleep with a sharp inhale and a near leap out of Hans’ arms. The nutcracker jolted awake along with her, gasping as his mind reeled from the sensation of falling.

The both of them just sat there for a moment, both breathing deeply as they tried to gather their senses. They took in their surroundings, noticing their dead fire and the dark sky lightening in the coming dawn. Crickets were chirping around them and the wind was a gentle breeze through the leaves of the trees.

There was absolutely no evidence to the existence of the trials they had just endured.

Finally, they registered each other, both still sitting side-by-side against the tree.

Their attention snapped to one another and they looked upon each other with wide eyes before they erupted.

“Hans!”

“Clara!”

Their arms darted for each other, both pulling the other in a tight hug. They both laughed, relieved to see each other after spending such a long and strange night separated. Hans relished in her presence, delighted in seeing her again after what felt like an eternity. Clara buried her head in his neck, overjoyed to know that he was there and he was okay.

“Oh Hans! I thought you were gone for a moment there!” Hans’ elation was cut short by her statement, growing confused. He gently pushed her away from his chest so that he could look into her eyes. He frowned.

“Gone? What do you mean?” The young girl stared at him for a moment before giving her answer in a tone that was almost frantic.

“W-When I-I woke up, you weren’t here! You were gone and I couldn’t find you!” She looked away from his eyes, down at his chest.

“But then . . . Hans?” Clara hesitated, unsure how to continue. Nervously, she looked up at him. Hans tilted his head at her sudden nervousness, worried about what was bothering her.

“Yes?” He replied in a concerned tone. Clara looked around them, taking in the normal forest and the normal sky. Doubts grew within her, popping numerous worried questions into her head.

Would it be a good idea to tell him? What if it had all been just a dream, with no strings attached? What if it was just her imagination running wild? Would he believe her either way?

Thinking back, Caterina did mention that something similar had been happening to him while they trained. It had to be true, right?

Well, there was only one way to find out. Swallowing nervously, she met his eyes once more and asked her question slowly.

“Did . . . did you . . . have a strange dream? About . . . meeting someone?” At her inquiry, Hans’ expression went from concerned to shocked in the blink of an eye.

“I-I . . .” His mouth opened and closed as he tried to answer. Clara watched in growing anticipation as he struggled. Finally, he found his tongue.

“How did you know?” His question was more than enough to dissolve her doubts and grant her relief in the knowledge that it had all been real, that they had actually met with real spirits. A bit of excitement entered her as she explained, watching Hans’ expression grow more and more surprised.

“I . . . I had a dream too . . . or something like it. In it, there . . . there were stars everywhere, more than I had ever seen before! And all around them, the night sky was full of clouds that looked like they had been dyed with a rainbow! And then, one of the stars fell out of the sky and turned into a woman named Caterina. She said she had been a human in the Nutcracker Regiment!” As she described what she had seen, she immediately noticed how strange and childish her tale was sounding. In fact, if it were not of the recognition and amazement present on Hans’ face, she would have stopped at the first few words. She could tell that Hans was believing every word, and so she continued.

“She told me that I was in a place called ‘The Veiled Divide’ and that she was there to help me.” Clara paused for a moment, catching her breath before making sure to look Hans straight in the eye.

“When I asked where you were, she told me that you were meeting with someone else.” Her statement was also a question in disguise and Hans caught on to that. Coming to terms with the fact that Clara had had a similar experience to his, Hans looked off to the side, contemplating.

“Yes, I met someone.” Looking back at her, he could tell that she was very eager to know who. With a sigh, he gave her an answer to her curiosity.

“It was Daemon . . . and all the other Nutcrackers.” At this information, the girl’s eyes went wide and her jaw dropped with astonishment and wonder.

“Really?” She breathed, nearly disbelievingly. Hans nodded, a small smile growing upon his lips.

“Yeah, and he’s just as Althea described. In fact, he’s much nobler and stronger than I thought.” Hans both winced and smiled at the memories of their training. Every lesson that Daemon had given him had been rough and unyielding. Time had been of the essence, so Daemon couldn’t grant him the pleasure of leniency in a majority of his trails. Anger and frustration that had burned within Hans during some of Daemon’s lessons, but it had never been aimed at Daemon. No, Hans could feel nothing but respect, gratitude, and admiration for the purebred nutcracker. Because of him, they just might have a chance now.

“He . . . he said he wanted to help me.” He told her absentmindedly. But then, he refocused on her awed expression, his own expression thoughtful. Then, with a small grin, he slowly started to rise to his feet.

“And he did. Stay here for a moment. I want to try something.” Clara nodded as Hans released her from his arms and stood up. She watched curiously as he walked away from her, past their cold campfire, and stopping in the more open space of their campsite.

Remembering Daemon’s instructions, he relaxed his wooden body as much as possible, clearing his mind of any worries or doubts. He drew his sword, holding it out in a forward point.

Then, he slide his body into a ready stance, his eyes glaring into the distance as he brought his sword closer to himself in a defensive posture. He let his imagination take hold, forcing out an image of the Mouse King charging at him, his claws extended to grab him. Taking a deep breath, he acknowledged the danger and pushed back the fear, just as Daemon had told him. Tensing his legs, he waited for the invisible enemy to get close, nearly dangerously close, before leaping to the side in a forward dash.

The projected Mouse King began to rush past him, unable to redirect in the close proximity. Mid leap, Hans’ torso quickly spun in a full rotation, bringing his sword in a powerful, wide arch into the rodent’s invisible side. An imagined roar of pain erupted from the mouse as Hans’ torso finished its 360 degree spin and his feet hit the ground. Disoriented from the spin attack, Hans stumbled on his landing, but was quick to recover. Spinning on the heel of one foot, he turned around and shifted back into ready position, facing where the Mouse King would have been.

This time, he imagined the giant rat standing before him with his swords, pulling one back to strike him down. Once again relaxing his body and focusing his mind, his sword flew up to block the blow. Then, with a twirl of his body and a spin of his wrist, he moved out of the way of the downward force and his sword slipped away to let the King’s sword continue on its journey, letting it taste the ground. Then, at the end of his twirl, he brought his freed, still raised blade down on the King’s shoulder with a slamming force.  The sword sang through the air and straight through his imagined target, gorging the ground instead. However, had the real Mouse King been standing there, the blow would have severed some vital tendons in his shoulder, possibly even broken his collar bone if the hit was hard enough in the right spot.

Hans stood still for a moment, taking in his successful execution of both attacks. He couldn’t prevent the pleased grin from forming. More than satisfied with his performance, Hans let his body fall out of his fighting stances, straightening up as he sheathed his sword once more.

“Wow Hans! Did Daemon teach you those moves?” At Clara’s delighted voice, Hans turned his head to watch her approach him in the dim light of approaching dawn, an awestruck gleam just visible in her eyes. Suddenly feeling bashful and very self-conscious, his hand instinctively lifted to rub the back of his neck as a light blush colored his cheeks. He gave the girl a sheepish smile as she stopped in front of him.

“Y-Yeah . . . but I’m stilling working on them.” He replied modestly. Many of the moves he had learned weren’t perfected and still gave him trouble.

The first attack was a prime example. It still felt weird and uncomfortable to completely rotate his upper body like that and that stumble at the end could be a lethal mistake in a real battle. Daemon had made that point clear throughout his training.

But, he would admit, he was thrilled to see that his attacks had been swift and true, despite his stumbles. And he was surprised, and a bit glad, to find that Daemon’s attacks felt . . . easier . . . more natural for his body to use, unlike attacks that he had tried in the past.

Clara gazed up at him with delight and admiration, making Hans’ shyness skyrocket.

“What else did he teach you?” She asked, smiling a brilliant smile. Hans stared at her with a growing blush, needing a moment to gather himself before trying to answer her question.

“Oh . . . um . . . a few things. He . . . uh . . . showed me how to stay calm during a battle, a few attacks, a few defenses and . . . um . . . a few tricks.”

After a moment of hesitation, he held out his arm and concentrated on his hand, willing it to move. Immediately, it obeyed him with incredible speed. With a barrage of clicks, his hand near-instantly locked into different blocking positions, capable of moving his sword’s blade in all sorts of directions at break-neck speed. As unnerving as the ability still was to him, Hans couldn’t help but smile with a bit of pride.

This fast correction of sword position would definitely help with his defense.

At first, Clara had looked frightened by the snapping and clicking of his wrist, but upon the realization that the movement had not hurt him, she gave him a wide smile as excitement grew in her eyes. She was nearly bouncing in place as she voiced her next question.

“Would you mind if I tried something as well? Caterina taught me a few moves too!” Hans did a double take, his shy expression morphing into one of astonishment.

“What? Really?” She nodded vigorously before turning and jogging back to their tree. Hans stayed put, studying her as she slipped on her boots and reached into her bag to grab her magical cord of threads. Moving a short distance away from their things, she turned and faced him, moving into what Hans recognized as a ready stance.

“Okay, Hans. Charge at me and try to catch me. Don’t hold back.” She twirled the end of her rope a bit, eyeing Hans with an almost steely look and a determined expression.

However, her expression softened when Hans didn’t move, nervously shuffling his feet as he looked back at her in worry.

“Uh, Clara? I . . . I don’t think . . .” He stopped his mess of an excuse when she flashed him a brilliant smile, speaking with a comforting tone.

“Just trust me, Hans. I promise that you won’t hurt me. I know what I’m doing now.” Once again, she relaxed into her own ready position, watching Hans as she waited for his approach.

Hans stood still for a moment, conflicted. He wanted to trust in her, to let her showoff her own achievements. However, a large part of him fiercely rebelled against any notion of attacking her, intentional or not.

But . . . she looked like she know what she was doing and, after his performance, it wouldn’t be fair to refuse her this.

Worried but defeated, Hans closed his eyes and let out a deep inhale. Looking back up at Clara, he crouch a bit, getting ready to run at her.

“Alright. Get ready.” Giving her a moment to nod and prepare herself, Hans shifted back one foot, then launched himself at her. He closed the distance fast and, once near, he reached out his arms, careful but intent on capturing her.

However, as his hands lunged to clamp down on her, she vanished in a blur. He barely had time to register her disappearance before he felt something clamp down on his arms instead. Within moments, his whole body was bound and tied, his face now on its way to meet the ground.

However, the threads that had coiled around him pulled tight from behind and his descent was stopped a second before his nose could be grated against the ground. Turning his head, he looked back to see Clara standing triumphantly behind him, the cord of rope drifting through the air around her like a loose string of spider web as it held him up.

Hans’ whole body seized.

Standing there, smiling brightly at him as she stood regally amongst shimmering threads that flowed around her, Clara had probably never looked more beautiful to the nutcracker.

“Whoa.” He breathed out, awestruck by both her counterattack and the powerful image of the girl before him.

“I know, right?” She replied happily as she gave her rope a little tug. The motion seemed to travel down its length and resulted in Hans being gently set back on his feet, the threads slipping off his body as they return to her hand as coils of rope. She stood there with a huge grin, positively radiating happiness and confidence.

“And I have a few more tricks up my sleeve. And Caterina let me in on some ‘mousy’ information.” She giggled, absolutely thrilled about something for the first time in days. Hans just stared at her, taking in the strong, amazing woman that stood before him as she laughed.

To him, she had never been more of an absolute marvel than in that moment.

“That . . . was amazing, Clara.” His voice was low and his tone was awed. Clara looked up at him and blushed, made shy by his sudden look of utter fondness.

“T-Thank you, Hans! A-And you looked incredible too!” At her nervous praise, Hans snapped out of his sudden daze, shaking his head as he blushed as well, his hand once again rubbing his neck.

“Thanks.” He glanced off the side, trying to calm himself so that his blush would fade. Despite her own bashfulness, Clara giggled. Giving Hans some space, she looked around, studying the forest around them. Then she looked up at the brightening sky, a few stars still visible in the growing light. She stared up at them as she spoke, her voice low and soft in wonder.

“I can still hardly believe it. It felt so real at the time, but now it all feels like a dream.” Hans looked back at her, curious. Then, seeing her stargazing, he looked up at the stars as well. Clara continued, imagining that the sky of the Veiled Divide still existed above them.

“It was so beautiful and strange . . . to see the night sky in so many colors . . . and with so many stars!” Before, she hadn’t had much of a belief in ghosts or spirits, but now, with everything she had been through in the past few weeks, anything seemed possible. But even after everything she had experienced, she had never expected that she would come face-to-face with the spirits of this kingdom. She especially never thought that the spirits would be . . .

Clara paused for a moment, her eyes widening in realization. Turning to Hans in exhilaration, she asked in a wonderstruck voice.

“Do you think that they’re the actual stars? Could they be watching us right now?” Clara looked back up at the disappearing stars, studying each one as she wondered if one of them was Caterina or Daemon.

Could spirits even see them from that distance? Were they in the form of literal stars or did they just . . . exist inside them?

So many questions on how this supposed afterlife worked buzzed in her head. Her need for answers then lead to the realization that Hans had never answered her. Looking back at her dear friend, concern presented itself within her as Hans continued to stare up at the stars, his expression growing somber and lost in thought.

“Hans?” She called, worried for her beloved nutcracker. He remained silent, eyes never leaving the heavens. Clara stepped closer to him, ready to give his arm a gentle shake for his attention, when he whispered.

“There’s a legend . . .” Clara froze in place, struck still by the gravity within his voice. She stared at him as he stared at the sky. He continued on in a low voice, his gaze locked on the brightest of stars resisting the light of the approaching sun.

“They say that there was a time with the night sky held no stars . . .” Surprised, Clara looked back up at the sky, imagining it as an endless blanket of black with no stars to break through the darkness.

“But a long, long time ago, the noble leader of this world’s very first people died one night, after fighting all day to defend this land from evil forces seeking to destroy it.” Hans’ voice echoed in her ears, filling her mind with the images of his tale as she watched the stars.

“For his years of dedicated leadership, and for the immense love he had held for this land and his people, the ancient powers of this world granted him an eternal throne from which he could forever watch over those he had loved.” Clara glanced over, as within the corner of her eyes, she saw Hans lift his arm and point to one star in particular, shining the brightest of them all. Clara’s eyes widened even further as she recognized Polaris, the North Star.

“The first star in the sky.” He whispered as his arm fell to his side. There was a pause as their gazes remained on the unmoving star, imagining it as a throne of light from which a noble ruler watched. Then Hans’ gaze moved across the sky, taking in the other twinkling stars and imagining them all as shining souls.

“Since then, the sky has been filled with stars . . . more than can ever be seen . . . one for every soul who has lived and dead with a righteous heart, forever watching over the world they had to leave behind.” Clara looked on in awe, visualizing the stars as the people she had seen in her dream. She wondered if the same was true for her world.

A massive sigh dragged her from her dreaming. Looking back at Hans, she was confused and dismayed to find that Hans’ face had grown sad and lost. When he spoke, his voice was gentle and subdued.

“I haven’t believed in that old wives’ tale since I was very little . . . ever since . . .  my parents . . .” Clara gasped. She had never heard him mention his parents before, not once. From his stories, he made it sound like Uncle Drosselmeyer had raised him his whole life.

Clara opened her mouth to ask about them . . . when Hans started shaking. She shut her mouth as a humorless laugh left his lips. She felt distress shot through her as she caught a glimpse of tears forming in his eyes. He closed his eyes, quaking at the deep ache caused by the reopening of a long-buried wound.

“And to think . . . this whole time . . . i-it’s been true! And they . . . they must have been . . .” He cut himself short, unable to continue. So instead, he asked a question. A question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to. A question he wasn’t sure he would ever get an answer for.

The first tear fell as he asked, his eyes opening to the stars once more.

“D-Do . . . do you think . . . that they’re . . . proud of me? E-Even . . . even now?” His thoughts then moved to the others as well, to Daemon and the Nutcrackers, to all the people who could be watching them from up there . . . and all the people who were counting on them down here.

“D-Do you think I-I-I can make them all proud?” There was silence beneath the stars, the crickets quieting and the first birds yet to awake. The cursed nutcracker cried with inaudible sobs, while the human girl watched the tears in a stunned hush. Then, a dull thump broke the silence as the girl dropped her threads to the ground. The soft rustling of grass kept the silence at bay as she slowly moved to stand in front of her nutcracker.

Reaching up, she gently pulled his face down, waiting patiently until his sad eyes left the stars to meet with hers. With a tender smile, she wiped away his tears and whispered up to him in a warm voice.

“Of course you can, Hans. I’m certain you already have.” His eyes widened at her statement, but she could see the doubts seeping in. Pulling his head even closer, she gave him a firm but confident look, her eyes still fill of compassion as she whispered.

“You are a kind and brave man, Hans, and you have done so many amazing things . . . and have helped so many people.” Stroking his cheek, she spoke in a tone that conveyed her absolute belief and confidence in her words.

“Any parent would be proud to have you as a son.” The nutcracker went completely still, staring at the girl as she continued to sooth him. But within moments, he had gathered the girl in his arms, holding her tightly. Smiling, Clara’s arms moved to wrap around his neck, holding on just as tight.

They leaned against each other, Clara stroking his hair as Hans let out unsteady breaths. Once she heard his breathing even out and felt his body relax against her, she whispered gently in his ear.

“You’ll make them proud, Hans.” She briefly wondered if two of the humans that had appeared before her in the Divide could have been his parents. There was no way to tell, but Clara was certain that they had at least been watching. She couldn’t imagine why they wouldn’t have, not when they had such a wonderful son as Hans.

But there had been those who were present, people who believed in them and trusted them with freeing their home. They would not betray their trust.

Pulling away, she looked Hans in the eyes as she nodded to him with a determined gleam in her eyes.

“We’ll make them all proud.” At the sight of her confidence and the memories of her kind words, Hans sensed a smile returning to his face. She still believed in him, just like she always had. Perhaps, the same was true for the rest, for the ones watching over them . . . for the ones depending on them.

Looking into her eyes, he felt something build up inside him, something that was reflected in her eyes. He felt a strength flood his limbs, burning the sadness and the weakness away. Looking down at Clara’s determined, beautiful face, and thinking back to all those kind people they had met on their journey, he felt resolve harden in his chest. He suddenly felt like he could take on anything. He wouldn’t let any of them down, not after everything.

It was at that moment that Hans understood what Daemon had been talking about.

He did indeed have a greater power than the Mouse King’s.

The King fought only for himself and that made him weak. But when one has hope, has someone to protect, that one’s power is unmatched.

His smile grew.

Between him and Clara, the Mouse King didn’t have much of a chance after all.

Looking into the eyes of the strongest, bravest woman he knew, he knew that, together, they would make them all proud.

It seemed that Daemon had been right again. There was indeed hope to be found here.

“Yeah . . . yeah we will.” Placing his forehead against hers, he made a vow to himself.

He would make her proud too.

“Thank you, Clara.” Clara smiled at him, nuzzling him back as she closed her eyes.

“Always.” She whispered to him as they remained still, taking in the peace as the call of the first bird finally signaled the awakening of the world.

Eventually, they separated with gentle smiles and easing hearts. In comfortable silence, they moved back to their little campsite and began to pack up, getting ready for their final stretch. With one last check for any forgotten items, they left the area, moving through the trees side by side.

Within a few minutes of walking, the trees thinned out, opening up to a clearing.

Hans immediately recognized it as his training ground, nearly freezing in place at the realization. Not wanting to worry Clara, he kept moving, but studied the clearing as they walked through it.

It looked just the same as it had during his training, excluding the billions of stars and heavenly auras dancing in the sky. Inspecting the ground, he was surprised, but not quite shocked, to see that the ground was undisturbed, spotless of any marks or cuts created by swinging swords or pounding feet.

It was like nothing had ever happened here at all.

But Hans knew better. Something had definitely happened here, in another world or otherwise, and he wouldn’t soon forget it. Any of it.

Looking back up ahead, he saw the end of the clearing, previously hidden from him by the mysterious fog. Before them was a steep slope, almost a cliff, that overlooked the forested land below. In the distance, the Royal Castle stood tall, marking the conclusion to their long travels.

They stopped at the top of the slope, looking upon the castle as their poisonous doubts and fears tried to invade their hearts once again. However, they stood fast as they looked at one another, both watching the other as they drew strength from the presence of the other. Soon, they were smiling once more, their hearts filling with the love and trust that they had for each other.

Clara reached out, taking his hand in hers. He instantly held on tight, refusing to let anything keep them apart. Their inner strength grew in the joining of their hands.

With daring eyes, they turned their gazes back to the castle, watching as the sun peeked over its towers to wage war with the glittering night.

The people of this land, both new and old, had strengthened their souls, giving them the sword and shield to fight and defend with.

The both of them had strengthened each other’s hearts, both giving the other the will and the fire within to face down any enemy, with never a thought of surrender.

Together, as they were now, they had a chance. They had a cause and an inner strength that the Mouse King could not rival.

Together, they would win this fight, for each other and for all.

They would be victorious!

With burning hearts and flaring souls, together Hans and Clara took their first steps toward their journey’s end . . . with a thousand stars following behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> Not only did I want to give Daemon one last hurrah (everyone seems to love him now. :p), but I wanted Hans to have a bit more training. He was obviously no match for the Mouse King on the first night (lucky bite instinct saved the day) and I think that training session with the toy soldier won’t be quite enough (only training I’ve seen so far). 
> 
> He needs a teacher who knows exactly how his body works and knows some moves created just for nutcrackers. SO WHO BETTER THAN THE NOW LEGENDARY DAEMON, THE GHOST NUTCRACKER? (now he has another reason to be called that, hm? Though he’s more of a spirit . . .)
> 
> Also, I just feel like giving the nutcrackers a little more importance and ‘scene time’ in the story, despite them being basically extinct. I feel like they would be too awesome to ignore. XD
> 
> And I just realized something when I was first drafting this. The personality and speech patterns I’m giving Daemon makes him act a lot like my favorite cartoon role model, Optimus Prime from the Transformers franchise. And you know what? YOU GO, SUBCONSCIOUS ME! I LIKE IT! :D
> 
> BTW, if you recognized some of the nutcrackers in the memories, GOOD FOR YOU! You’ve been keeping up with the fan-base! :D
> 
> The Nutcracker cameos mixed with some random nutcrackers in the memories are, in order: Alexandre, Noel, Wee, Abel, David, and Saorise. 
> 
> THANKS FOR READING!!!


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